


Transit & Transition 2: Hotel DeLuxe (formerly MyBunny LoveKit)

by CoffeeWithConsequences



Series: Transit & Transition [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Cybersex, Hotels, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, MyBunny LoveKit, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Portland Oregon, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 22:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/pseuds/CoffeeWithConsequences
Summary: Eames is alone in a city he doesn't like. Arthur spots something in his hotel room to help him relax. Completely plotless smut.3/7/18: Adding this to the Transit & Transition series, since it fits right in.





	Transit & Transition 2: Hotel DeLuxe (formerly MyBunny LoveKit)

**Author's Note:**

> The only excuse I can make is that I found [these](https://www.bunnyjuice.com/products/mybunny-lovekits-midnight-collection) in my hotel minibar and they were just too amusing not to become fic. I apologize in advance.

**2018: Hotel DeLuxe, Portland, Oregon**

“I hate it here.”

Arthur was taken aback as Eames’ face filled the screen. It was unusual for Eames to be so immediately surly, especially when he was sitting on the bed of what looked to be a perfectly nice hotel room. 

“Is something wrong with the job?” Arthur frowned, searching the poor quality image on his screen for clues. 

Eames exhaled an irritated puff. “No. The job is fine. Boring, but no issues.” He gestured around him. “It’s this fucking place.”

Arthur frowned harder. “The hotel? I’ve stayed there before. It was nice enough.” He couldn’t fully remember--one hotel ran into the next--but he knew it wasn’t on his rather long “never again” list.

“The hotel. The neighborhood. The whole bloody self important city!” Eames glared around the room. “This room is the size of a fucking thimble. There’s no bloody water pressure--some rot about conservation. They don’t change your towels unless you ask, and if you do, they act like you’re single-handedly killing the planet. You can’t order a fucking piece of chicken here without learning where the it went to uni.” 

As Eames finished his rant, his face left the screen, and Arthur heard him open a door. Minibar, Arthur thought. “So, you’re not a fan of Portland?” Arthur asked. “I’m kind of surprised, actually.”

Eames face returned, then ducked out again as he was clearly upending the contents of the minibar onto the bed. “Surprised? What did I do to make you think I’d enjoy this poncy fucking place?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Eames, for a gay, British man, you call things poncy far too much.”

Eames glared in the general direction of the screen, then returned to sorting through the bags and boxes on the bed. “Take it personally, pet?” 

“Yes, Eames. It breaks my heart to know you find me overly queer.” Arthur wasn’t sure if he should be irritated with Eames or worried about him. It was unlike him to be so put out by a hotel, or even a city, that wasn’t to his taste. He’d stayed in shitholes with no running water and bugs the size of cars and had less attitude. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is actually wrong?”

“Every goddamn thing in here is organic.” Eames’ voice was rising now. “They don’t even have real liquor, for Christ’s sake!” He held up a tiny bottle for Arthur’s inspection. “What the fuck is Wild Roots vodka?” He tossed the bottle back down. “Who the fuck does Portland, Oregon think it is, anyway? Not even a real bloody city.”

“Eames,” Arthur said sharply, bringing Eames’ attention back to the screen. “Sit the fuck down and tell me what’s actually wrong.”

Eames glared, but stopped rummaging through the snacks. He was quiet for a moment, then spoke more softly. “It rains every day here, and the job is dull, and people wear socks with sandals and fleece vests, and you aren’t here to judge them for it.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. 

“Don’t worry, I’m judging them from here.”

“I miss you, is all.” Eames glanced up at the screen, then back down at the bed.

Arthur was quiet a moment. This part was new. It was less than two weeks ago that he and Eames agreed they wouldn’t be seeing anybody else--wouldn’t be fucking anybody else--even when they were apart. It wasn’t anything different for Arthur, who hadn’t really been interested in other people since he’d started with Eames. He was fairly certain, though he’d never ask, that it was a change for Eames. “You miss having your cock sucked, maybe,” Arthur said, smirking. The other interpretations were too much to consider.

If Eames meant anything else by it, he didn’t let on. He simply smirked back, “I do indeed.” He returned to sifting through the contents of the minibar.

“Wait, Eames, what was that?” Arthur noticed two small boxes Eames had pushed to the side.

“What?” Eames frowned, then followed Arthur’s indicating nod and picked one box up. “MyBunny LoveKit,” he read. “For Him.” He grabbed the other one. “For Her.” He held them up to the laptop camera. “What fresh fuckery is this?”

Arthur chuckled. “They’re a thing in these boutique hotels,” he said. “Look closer.”

Eames frowned and read the smaller print. “Intimate male massager, lubricant, and condoms.” Then, on the other box, “personal massager, lubricant, and condoms.” He looked back up at the camera and raised an incredulous eyebrow. “These are meant to be for...fucking? Wanking?”

“Either, I’d expect,” Arthur answered.

“What’s in them?” Eames asked, already ripping the “For Him” box open.

Arthur didn’t bother to chastise Eames for the twenty bucks his curiosity was going to cost him. It might just be worth it.  


Eames tossed the condoms and lube packet aside and held up something that looked like a plastic Easter egg. “Darling, do you have any idea what this is for?”

Arthur laughed. “Yes. Do you?”

Eames turned the object over curiously in his hand. “Egg,” he read. “Tenga. Easy Beat Thunder.” He looked back at Arthur, clearly confused.

Arthur couldn’t hide his smile. “It’s…to fuck. Open it. You’ll see.”

Eames still looked puzzled, but he gamely pulled the label off the egg and popped it open. Inside, he found a smaller, softer egg-shape. When he pulled that out and turned it over, there was a small packet of lubricant inside. By the time he looked back up at the camera, Eames had figured it out. 

“Think we can improve your mood?” Arthur asked. 

“You filthy minx,” Eames responded, shooting Arthur the first smile he’d seen all night. “Would you like that?” 

“Yeah,” Arthur said slowly, realizing it was true as he said it. “I’d rather have you here, fucking me. But I wouldn’t say no to show.” He licked his lips. 

“You want me to perform for you?” Eames asked, his voice already pitching lower.

“Depends,” Arthur said lightly. “Think you can take direction?”

Eames may have shivered--it was hard to tell through the camera. “Yeah,” he said, focused fully on Arthur’s image on his screen now. “Yeah.”

Arthur exhaled a long breath. “OK,” he said, letting his voice go softer. “Push all that shit onto the floor.”

Eames did as directed, shoving the snack packages to the floor, but leaving the Egg on the bed next to him.

“Now take off your shirt, and lie down.” Arthur’s voice was still soft, but he made it clear he was giving commands, not suggestions.

Eames complied again, unbuttoning his shirt quickly, discarding it, and then lying down. He shifted the laptop so Arthur could see his face and most of his bare chest.

“Run your hands over your body for me,” Arthur instructed. “Feel your muscles under your fingers. Think about how my hands feel on your skin.” His own hands twitched as he said it. He usually tried to hide just how much, but he loved running his hands over Eames’ chest, feeling the hard muscles, tracing the ink. 

Eames ran his hands slowly over his chest, then down his stomach. Arthur headed him off. “Stay above the waist,” he chided. “There’s no reason to be in a hurry.”

Eames opened one eye and glared at the camera, but didn’t argue.

“Relax, Eames,” Arthur ordered. “Just close your eyes and concentrate on your hands on your skin.” He still wasn’t really comfortable doing this, but he knew Eames liked it, and it wasn’t as embarrassing as it used to be, so he continued. “I love looking at you. I love touching you. You’re so gorgeous.” It still seemed odd to Arthur that someone as good looking as Eames craved praise so greedily, but he knew it worked. Even as he spoke, he noticed the way Eames’ shoulders relaxed a bit into the bed. “I wish I could lick you all over,” he said. “I wish I could crawl down your body and run my tongue over every inch.” 

Eames' hips shifted, but he continued to keep his hands above the waist and his eyes closed, focusing, as he’d been instructed, on his chest and stomach. 

“OK,” Arthur said, tearing his eyes away from Eames body for a moment and remembering what he was doing. “Touch your cock, but just through your trousers. Just run your hand down your belly and between your legs.”

Eames hissed softly as he ran his hand down the length of his zipper, then palmed himself. 

“Be gentle,” Arthur instructed, watching Eames’ reactions closely. “Just rub against your hand. Think about rubbing against me. Remember in the elevator, in Vienna?” It was a nice memory. “You pushed me up against the wall. I tried to get in your pants, but neither one of us could wait.”

Eames groaned softly, and Arthur could see his hand pushing a bit harder against his crotch. “OK,” he said, still soft-voiced. “Take your pants off. I want to see you.”

After Eames kicked his trousers and underwear off the bed, he once again rearranged the laptop so Arthur could see most of his body. He was mostly hard and seemed to have forgotten all about the Egg. For the moment, Arthur let him forget. “Let me see you stroke yourself,” he commanded. “But not fast. You’re not trying to come yet. Just get yourself nice and hard for me.”

Eames spit on his palm and ran it up and down his length, then began to pull lazily on his cock. He opened his eyes again and met Arthur’s gaze on the screen, shameless and beginning to preen. “Like what you see?” he asked, half-joking.

“Yes,” Arthur said simply. “But now I want more. Bring that Egg over to the camera.”

Eames frowned at having to let go of his erection, but grabbed the soft egg and held it near the camera. 

“OK,” Arthur said. “Open the lube, then close your eyes. I want you to rub it around the opening. Get it all wet and ready for you.” He took a deep breath, unsure about he was going to say next, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “Think about what it’s like when you’ve already fucked me and you want another go, when I’m still wet and open, but you want to make sure.”

Arthur couldn’t precisely see what Eames was doing, but the camera showed Eames’ closed eyes and moving fingers, so he kept going. “I love this part,” he said, his voice breathier now. “I love your fingers in me when I’m still sore from the last time, still wet. I love you teasing me open again, your fingers all slippery. I love feeling soaked and sloppy and ready for your cock.” 

Eames groaned softly, but kept his eyes closed. Arthur wished he could see better, but didn’t want to interrupt to ask for a camera angle change now. “I’m ready,” he whispered. “Keep your eyes closed when you push inside. Feel me around you. Listen to my voice.” 

Though he couldn’t see it, Arthur knew without a doubt when Eames pushed into the sleeve. It wasn’t precisely the noise he made when he entered Arthur’s body, but it wasn’t far off. “There you go, baby,” Arthur said, his speech speeding and slurring despite himself. “God, you look so gorgeous when you fuck me. I love to watch your face when I ride your cock, when you close your eyes and just fuck up into me.” 

The weight of Eames’ body shifted the laptop, and suddenly Arthur couldn’t see his face anymore, but could clearly see his hips pushing up into where his hand held the stretchable sleeve, his cock disappearing into it. 

“Tighten your grip,” Arthur instructed. “God, I want to feel you fuck me. You’re so fucking hot now. I love watching you.” He was mesmerized for a moment, watching Eames’ bucking hips, memorizing their pattern. 

Arthur kept talking, making less sense, but keeping his voice low and slow. “You’re so beautiful. I’d watch you fuck anything.” He half-heard himself, and was half-ashamed, but not enough to stop, not when he could see how close Eames was. “Don’t hold back,” he murmured. “I want to see you come. I want to hear you.”

“Fuck, Arthur,” Eames groaned, pushing his hips up harder and then stuttering, thrusting gracelessly. “Fuck!” 

Arthur watched with wide eyes as Eames rode out the last of his orgasm, mindlessly pushing up into the sleeve, then finally falling back and letting it drop. He was quiet, just listening to Eames’ breath. His own cock was hard and neglected--had been for some time--but he could take care of that later. Now, he just wanted to watch Eames.

After a moment, Eames moved the camera again, so it pointed back at his face. He was blinking, his eyes hooded. He smiled impishly, a bit embarrassed, but not sorry. “Arthur?” he asked. “Did you just talk me through my first use of a wank sleeve?”

Arthur laughed. “Yes, Mr. Eames. How was it for you?”

Eames frowned. “Bizarrely good,” he said. “I may start purchasing them in bulk.”

“You feel better now?” 

Eames smiled. “I do.” He met Arthur’s eyes over the screen again. “Thank you.”

“For introducing you to the world of disposable masturbators?”

“For every single thought in your filthy mind.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow night, let’s open the other one.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please come visit me on [Tumblr](https://coffeewithconsequences.tumblr.com/) or read the rest of my fic here at [Archive of Our Own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/works)!


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